


On The House

by carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/carvedwhalebones
Summary: It’s not exactly unheard of for companies to thank the station or its detectives after solving a case. The Eden’s Club has a unique way of thanking Detective Reed.





	On The House

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** "Gavin/rk900/rk800 threesome between rk900 and rk800 fucking the shit out of Gavin"

> ! **!WARNING!!**  
>  You have one purchased model (RK800) for this time slot. RK900 model’s personality is not compatible with the RK800 model. Incompatible personalities can lead to difficulty following a desired scene, risk of miscommunication between models, and desynchronization. Models that are compatible with RK800 are listed down below. If you wish to continue, please confirm.

 

It took him three cigarettes to work up the courage to enter Eden’s Club. It took him four shots of some fruity shit drink from the bar that got him up to this point. The burn from the alcohol still sits in his throat, staring at the blue ‘ **CONFIRM** ’ option, pulse racing under his skin. Gavin jabs his thumb at the panel and the display case opens with a soft hush.

Gavin’s eyes slide down. Down past the dark lace of a garter belt, an illuminated serial number of the model glowing in a corner of the material. It settles somewhere in-between, feeling the dumb look stretching on his face, mouth slightly parted.

“Your ninety minutes already begun,” the android interrupts, Gavin’s eyes flying back up to witness an impassive arch of a brow. Something about it makes his hands itch.

Gavin’s _only_ here because it’s a waste to pass off free shit. It is _only_ because this is free and it’s rare he gets a weekend off. If this is all free, why _not_ pick the overpriced models?

It’s not exactly unheard of for companies to leave overpriced, obnoxious fruit baskets at the station after solving a case. Or pass on free tickets to the Detroit Tigers. It’s the same song and dance: decline in public, accept in private. This was the gift from the owner of The Eden’s Gate for solving a case three months back.

Two male androids in skintight bottoms isn’t exactly tickets to next week’s baseball game.

He’s ushered into a room, the lighting brighter than the main lobby. It leaves his shoulders stiff, warily eyeing his surroundings. The room looks like every other one he looked at during the investigation. Rounded bed, the paneling on the wall either shifting with the club’s colors or a nondescript image, a counter holding colorful bottles, and carpeted flooring. He works his jaw, hands shoved deep in his jacket’s pockets.

The RK800 model — the softer one with bright, inquisitive eyes. The one who wants to be called Connor — must have noticed because the room begins to dim when it brushes its hand against the wall. The music is softer and faraway.

“Would you like something to drink?” Connor inquires. Gavin nods, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Maybe he should, at least, take his shoes off… Do they take his shoes off? Should he take off his clothes? “Any preferences?”

“No,” he replies gruffly.

“Nervous?” despite the near identical appearance and voice, RK900 is strangely different. Shoulders are more pulled back, posture too perfect, creating the appearance of a slightly larger frame. Eyes are a discolored gray and serious looking, hair carefully slicked in place while Connor’s has a whimsical, simply-fell-out curl in the front.

Gavin bristles at the accusation, hissing back, “ _No_.”

RK900 hardly looks convinced.

Connor is pushing something into his hand and the detective nearly snaps at him before realizing it’s a glass. He takes a sip — whiskey, _good. Liquid fucking courage_ — and follows it with a greedy gulp.

“When you’re finished, strip,” RK900 orders, earning an baffled noise from Gavin, the sound trapped in the glass of whiskey. He moves the glass from his lips, holding it out for Connor to take. The ring on its temple is cycling a bright yellow and it doesn’t take long for RK900’s to turn the same shade, both models staring at the other.

The same noise leaves Gavin, again, but it’s louder. Forceful.

“Who the fuck died and made you king?” he spits back, “don’t _I_ give the orders here?”

The bored look is scalding and Gavin’s shoulders rise, baring his teeth.

“You sure this isn’t nerves? Your heart rate is elevated and it looks like you’re starting to swea—”

“Fuck you,” Gavin seethes, “why don’t _you_ take off my clothes.”

Who knows what the response may be because Connor is placing a placating hand on his arm. It gives a gentle tug on the sleeve of his jacket. “How about I be the one to help you out of your clothes, Detective,” they suggest, voice a calming coo. The android is already moving in front of him, hands curling around the edges of his jacket and easing him out of it.  
  
Both models’ LED lights continue to cycle yellow.

Gavin becomes forgetful of his anger as Connor continues to undress him, each article of clothing falling to the ground. Fingers, purposely, graze his abdomen as his shirt rises. They rise with his shirt, brushing over the dusting of hair on his chest. Then, they touch the spaces above the waistband of his jeans, a lone finger running across until fingers are undoing the button of his jeans. The noisy drag of the zipper has a gut-deep-heat madly brewing, breath already labored, eyes staring with rapt attention at the youthful model.

A knowing smile curves on Connor’s mouth as he leans forward towards one of Gavin’s ears, fingers pushing down at his boxers, “Would you remove the rest of your clothing?”

He does just that — _eagerly_ complies. He’s stepping out of his shoes and socks, kicking off his jeans. He glances at Connor, but Connor is moving away, moving towards the bed. He sits on the edge, RK900 joining him. The sight of the two has him shimming out of his boxers with a bit more enthusiasm, stepping out of his clothes. Connor gestures for him to move closer.

“Is there anything you like? Would like us to do?” it inquires. He’s so close. If one of them just leaned in and opened their mouth, he could just slip his c —

 _Shit._ Gavin bites down on the noise vibrating up his throat, jaw tight.

“I want you —” He takes a shaky breath, trying to regain composure, nodding his head to RK900. _Wait. No, no, no_. He has something better. “No, both of you, to suck me off,” Gavin declares, aiming for bravado, but it falls short, settling somewhere on anxious. He finishes it with a challenging stare directed at RK900.

The newer model cooly meets Gavin’s gaze before reaching out to pull him closer. Lips press into his left thigh, kissing and tasting the skin. Connor mirrors the action on his right thigh, the two of them working in unison to map out his legs with their mouth. Gavin inhales loudly when RK900’s nose brushes against his cock, mouth kissing the inseam of his thigh, moving up. His hand fumbles forward, gripping the android’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he complains softly.

Their mouths, finally, move to their respective sides on his cock, open mouthed and sucking on heated flesh. Gavin groans, hands moving until they’re lost in their hair, fingers twisting around dark locks. They’re crowded against the other, noses pressing, as their lips frame this cock. They move. In perfect unison their lips are sliding up and down his cock. There isn’t enough pressure — hardly enough, really, but it’s the sight that has him reeling.

Their pink lips are starting to turn darker, occasionally brushing against the other on their descent. The matching freckles on their scalp and far-too-natural flush that settles faintly on their forehead, nose, and cheeks has precum beading out. Gavin can’t help the slight roll of his hips, pushing into the fictional opening their mouths have created.

He wants more.

He tugs on one of their dark locks, not sure who, at this point. One of their eyes open, brown staring up. A flicker of inquiry in Connor’s eyes before he’s breaking the joined movement, moving his mouth so the next roll forward has Gavin pushing into Connor. RK900 moves, mouth drifting towards the base, as his cock presses into the flat of Connor’s tongue. The android closes around it, sucking at the intrusion. It has Gavin’s toes curling, moaning in encouragement, daring to push his hips further forward.

Connor takes it without complaint, closing his eyes, letting Gavin set the pace.

It’s hardly rhythmic, more like eager jerks of his hips, marveling at how terrifyingly real the android’s mouth felt. He can feel the ridges on the roof of his mouth with each push, leaking into the back of Connor’s mouth, where the android will instinctually swallow every so often. It’s fucking maddening and he _almost_ feels bad for pushing himself further. Further to that point where he can feel that natural downward curve of Connor’s mouth leading into his throat. He doesn’t choke. Just stares at him with those inquisitive eyes and all he can do is swear.

He silently wishes he would choke — to feel that nervous wrangle for air.

A hand curls around his throat and it takes Gavin far too long to realize it’s not Connor. RK900 has left its spot on his knees, moving behind him. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around the bottom of his throat, the other hand settling low on his hip. He can feel the texture of lace against his backside and something thicker and heavier covered in silky material. It leaves his heart jumping in his throat, breathing loud and short.

“You tell me when,” RK900 murmurs into his left ear and he squeezes. The hand on his throat squeezes and squeezes, and squeezes, and —

_Oh. There it is._

“F-fu…g…” he sputters out, toes digging into the carpet and fingers pulling tight on Connor’s hair. He’s yanking Connor further towards him as he arches, feeling the android’s nose press into his groin. The depleting oxygen leaves him acutely aware of the soft flutter of Connor’s throat and tongue pressing up into the underside of his cock. His vision darkens around the corner, that instinctual need to thrash for life translating in him trying to push further forward. He can feel each nervous swallow of his own throat, thickly pressing against a strong grip. _There it is, there it is, there it is —_

His free hand swings back, patting RK900’s thigh from behind him.

“Go ahead, Detective,” a voice commands in his ear and the hand releases his throat.

With a broken noise, winded, he spills deep into Connor’s throat. He stays there, somewhat hunched over Connor as he feels the android swallow him down. His cock gives an exhausted, but painfully intrigued twitch at the pretty sight of Connor’s lips wrapped around him. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away, sagging back into the solid weight of RK900.

Hands maneuver him onto the bed, scooting himself further on the mattress, trying to regain his breath. He stays there, loose, letting himself sink deeper into the mattress.

“You still have an hour left,” RK900 informs minutes later, “at your age, I doubt you will become erect within the next fifteen.”

Gavin moves a hand to wipe the sweat off his face, turning to fix a scowl at RK900 and give a half-hearted, “Fuck you.”

“I was implying the opposite,” comes the calm retort. Both androids’ ringlets of lights are a muted yellow, staring at him intently.

He stares, hostility washing off his face and quickly being replaced with surprise. Something else settles in next to his surprise, Gavin licking his lips, his chest feeling strange and tight.

“….oh…” is all Gavin can manage.

Connor is sinking his knees into the bed, proffering a water bottle to Gavin. The detective pushes himself half-up to crack it open, taking a gulp.

“We’ll be slow,” Connor assures, adding with a smile, "we can always do something else, if you’re not interested.”

_We?! Two?_

Gavin glances between the two of them, RK900 still standing next to the bed, adorned in lace. While not as noticeable before, Gavin can, now, see the trapped swell of the android’s cock. He gnaws on his own tongue, taking a long intake of air, eyes moving to Connor.

“I can tap out whenever, right?” he asks.

“Yes.” To his surprise, it’s not Connor who responded. It’s RK900, staring at him curiously. 

Gavin cards his hand through his hair and takes another sip of water, twisting back the cap.

 _Fuck it_. He has an hour. First time for everything.

“Fuck, okay, yeah. I’m good,” he whooshes out, adjusting his spot on the bed. In unison, the LED light returns blue.

Connor briefly slips off the bed, fingers deftly picking at the connecting ribbon his own attire. It’s not as complex as RK900’s. Just a pair of black bottoms, lace lining the edge, the sides tied together by black ribbon. The bottoms ride up near the backside, exposing pale flesh speckled with freckles. It takes a tug of the ribbon for it to fall, revealing Connor’s slender cock, prettily colored pink around the head.

Gavin stares until Connor returns to the bed, bringing him back to the present with a kiss.

He’s been nudged back until he’s supine on the bed, moving a hand to tangle itself into Connor’s hair. He groans at the press of Connor’s tongue against his teeth and tongue. He can feel Connor’s other hand guide his free one to his side.

Another hand — RK900’s —is slipping underneath his waist and, briefly, lifting him up. A pillow is slipped underneath and Gavin is all too aware of what is going to transpire next. He messily pulls his mouth away from Connor’s, raising his head to get a better look. RK900 is moving its way between his thighs, pushing legs apart to settle within. The garter belt is gone, as are the bottoms. RK900 is thicker and he can feel the skin on his throat heat up. He endures the dull ache of holding his head up, watching the newer model squeeze something out of a tube into his hands.

Slicked fingers move in-between him, starting by rubbing against his entrance. He lets his head thud back, welcoming the distraction of Connor on his mouth.

A finger is pushing in and…it’s not as bad as he envisioned. There is the initial flash of pain of a finger moving through tight, constricting muscle, but it slowly fades. RK900 slowly thrusts the single finger back and forth before adding another. How quick Connor is there to help him evade the pain, lips soft and teasing on his mouth, neck, sliding down to one of his nipples. Fingers twist inside of him and it’s…not enough.

“I’m not going to fucking break,” Gavin grouses, earning a look from RK900 that is more promise than dismissal.

That has his cock stirring on his abdomen, pulse beginning to pick up.

Four — not three — fingers wiggle their way into him and the stretch has him giving out a punched out noise. He wants to watch, but he can’t manage to lift his head, forced to imagine what it might look like. He feels said fingers shallowly thrust until Gavin is panting, trying to spread his legs further apart.

Abruptly, the fingers leave.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He’s clumsily scrambling and twisting into position, backside sticking up. That earns a content noise from RK900, hands spreading him open, before a tongue laps at his entrance.

Gavin is cursing, head hanging, as he feels a heated tongue licking at excess lube that managed to slip out before pushing in. It’s not enough. Not enough of a stretch. Not enough pressure. How quick the cursing transitions into exasperated huffs.

“Not going to break,” he reiterates, purposely pushing his backside back into RK900. Gavin can’t tell if that gesture was appreciated or not, but fingers are digging hard into the flesh of his thigh.

“We’ll find out soon, Detective.”  
  
That’s all the warning he receives before the head of RK900’s cock presses into him.

He’s holding his breath, clutching onto the sheets underneath him. RK900 is continuing to push forward, the wet squelch of excessive lube as its cock slips deeper in leaving Gavin’s cheeks burning. There is an aching stretch — all sharp pain that has him tightening, muscles beginning to wind themselves into tight knots. A hand rubs at his lower back, the level voice from above instructing, “Careful.”  
  
Gavin releases his held in breath, just in time to hold it, again, Connor pressing his lips against his. He has to arch his back and lift his head up to better meet his mouth. It slightly changes the angle of his hips and when RK900 continues forward — _God._

He’s moaning wetly into Connor’s mouth, feeling the head of RK900’s cock pressing perfectly into that sweet spot. The android pulls back before sliding forward, beginning to build a steady pace. The nonstop nudge of pleasure has him loosening, relaxing. He gasps somewhere next to Connor’s mouth, feeling fingers slide across his scalp, gently scratching. Connor’s mouth leaves with a brief peck, but the hands remain.

“Open your mouth,” RK900 instructs and there is a faraway reminder he should resist. To cause a fuss. He, instead, opens his mouth. Connor’s cock is soon grazing the swell of his bottom lip, smearing something blue that is dribbling out from the tip. Curiosity has him moving his head forward, running his tongue across the spilled blue. There is a low noise in approval from behind him, the sound encouraging him to continue the action.

It doesn’t taste like much. It’s strange, but hardly foul. A few sweet notes that he can’t pinpoint and he takes in more of Connor with each grunt and word of praise from above, letting him push into the hollow of his cheek. Connor gives a pleased noise in their throat and Gavin wonders how much of this is real or scripted. The thought hangs there in a fog of bliss, timing the eager rock of his hips back and his return forward with their movements.

RK900 disturbs the mind numbing haze when their hips push deeper. It’s a new stretch, moaning around Connor.

The pace is picking up, feeling and hearing the lewd, wet slap of the android’s pubic bone meeting his backside. He’s slamming into that sweet spot, feeling his second orgasm hit him, pleasure cresting and burning fast in his gut. Whatever moan there is to be had is muffled and lost, Connor still moving in his mouth, pushing into the flesh of his cheek. Something warm coats the inside of his mouth and Connor is making a sweet noise, a mix between a sigh and a hum.

Gavin’s moving. Someone is pulling him by the shoulders, suddenly upright. He finds himself flushed against RK900’s chest, body hyperaware and sensitive to their cock that, still, is thrusting into him. He vaguely remembers to swallow what’s sitting in his mouth, aware that either sweat, drool, or Connor has managed to slip out of his mouth, running down his chin.

It takes a few more thrusts before RK900 pins themselves together, grunting, spilling inside of him. Gavin gives out a shaky wheeze, wilting into the android. Hands move to support him as RK900 eases out of him. Gavin swears he can feel lips on his sweaty shoulder.

“You did good,” one of them comments. Gavin can’t tell who, his eyes closed, body shaking with exertion.

He grumbles in return, incomprehensible, but in agreement. He can already feel the forming bruises on his throat and backside.

Someone is beginning to wipe him down with a warm washcloth and fingers are gently easing into him, pushing and scooping something thicker than Thirium out of him. He’s still too sensitive, breathing sharply at the motions, but he’s pliantly spreading his legs wider to assist. Gavin only moves when directed, giving a complaining noise when one of them — no, both. Someone has their fingers in his hair, smoothing it out — attempt to dress him.

“How much time I have left?” he slurs out, pulling his shoulders back to crack his back.

“Your time expired twelve minutes ago,” the one with their hand in his hair returns.

That has Gavin’s eyes opening, sitting up and staring incredulously at the two RK androids.

“My time expired? Aren’t you…”

 _Why the fuck did they keep on going? And does that mean paying up?_ He really does _not_ want to pay for the extra twelve minutes with Eden’s Club most expensive models.

“On the house. Our treat,” Connor smiles, holding out his jacket. Gavin answers with skepticism, but slowly pushes himself off the bed to take his jacket. He finishes the last of getting dressed on his own, unsure of what comes next. He stands next to the door, watching the two slip back into their own clothes. He really should just leave…

RK900 is the one who notices him by the door, corner of their lips twisting with amusement.

“We’ll see you again, Detective Reed,” the android promises and Gavin balks at the statement.

“Yeah fucking right” he heaves, finally leaving the room.

_Maybe._

_Probably._

_When this month’s paycheck kicks in, sure._

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Something you liked in particular? Something you didn’t? Please share via comment!_


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